4 line Poem. First Cross-Post for Lj Group.

My first 4-line Poetry Post, so I got carried away with 4 poems- I'll keep my posts shorter in the future and the poems too probably..

#1 Casual Greetings:

I have bad habits
Say things better
Left unsaid.
“Hello.”…“I’m doing alright, you know- some people died, but I’m okay.”

#2 "To the One I love:"

I always loved you,
I just hate what you have become.
Love it or leave it, and so I choose to
Stick around, or at least keep coming back.

#3 On hesitating...

I never told her I wanted to love her.
Maybe she already knew.
That might be why she asked
If I wanted her to love me.

#4 Women with art majors and chips on their shoulders, who are pissed off at me right now:

Four lines isn't enough to make up for stupid things said,
Mistakes made, being half-blooded,
2-3 years age difference, or luck of the draw as to when we were born.
And never losing the sibling rivalry or forgiving perceived insults.

-The Real Me, Mad Poet and all.

Yeah, I'd just stop doing what I do, but I might have to kill myself...

I've been going about this blog thing all wrong. I don't really have an audience, but what's the point if I don't write like I DO have one?

Oh well.

Anyway, since someone MIGHT read this... (This means you.)

I'm frustrated, duh.
I'm going to fix my life, fat chance, right?

But I do have many things I can and will improve. Why sit here griping about shit when I can just do it and get it done with?

Does anyone know of a way- short of medication- that would make it really easy for me to just keep my mouth shut and fingers tied and not talk to anyone for about a month that doesn't need to be talked to by me?

I mean, shit...I just won't shut up.
Seriously, how many times have you thought, "Damn Drew, shut up already."
Whether or not I was saying interesting or important things...which I rarely do.

Now, instead of making this a pity-party and a hate-on-myself blog, I'd like to post positive projects I want to be working on in the next few weeks.

I'll be sending in Poetry, and possibly art though such is unlikely, submissions for Matchbook.
I will follow that up by (eventually?) sending the same small-scale publisher guy a manuscript of my work- the original idea was a culmination of my better and most important work over a fairly large expanse of time. (this wouldn't be the case if I had been more prolific in recent years.)

I'm really such a mess right now as what I want to do and what I want to do for projects. Apparently I never learned to just focus on one thing and do that- just make it simple, don't over-complicate or try to over-do it. I always had to pull on so many thoughts about one thing or not forget the past.

Maybe I should just let old works die, be destroyed, forgotten. But where in self-examination does one begin to forget who they were?

I can live without being 18 or younger again, I can give up all the crap I wrote with angst and slight impersonation of Henley. That I wrote without form or function- just words and phrases that may or may not have been so very poetic. A bit harsh, but accurate and infuriating in retrospect. It isn't that I can't write- I have good ideas...I just can't pull them together in a constrained format with regularity.

I was my highschool's graduating senior class poet, and no one at my graduation ceremony heard that. They might have read it, but how the hell do I know that they remember that? Is it even a worthwhile mention?

What is it worth?

I no longer have Noone's as my inspiring home and family. I no longer am in the habit of writing down all my anxieties and observations in poetic form.

I honestly can only think of one person I was with that might have come close to appreciating artistic vision, and then I realize that I never really understood artistic discipline.

I'm a C student when it comes to art.
Even Photography.
I should sell my cameras, give up even entertaining the idea of the trade based on a C+ in the course. Yeah I did better in Photojournalism...but do I have what it takes to go into Photoethography and Visual Journalism?

Why don't I ask for assistance and help from people who have more experience with what I do? Why can't I apply the processes and techniques appropriately and do every thing I need to do to make the grades, do the work expected, and succeed?

Do I really have outset and completion anxiety? (no one ever said I did, though I think my psychiatrists, current and former, may still be hung up on the idea of me just being ADHD or even being Bi-polar to some degree rather than just having a bad interaction with Strattera.)

Why don't I know how to just admit my feelings and thoughts to people without scaring them off or pissing them off or waiting so long to do anything that I miss any window to be open and honest and forward with people.Companionship counts for a lot.

I miss my mother, I honestly thought recently that she was the only thing keeping me together- disciplined, under control. No one else kept me in line right, not Dad or friends or instructors. I would never tell instructors, employers or some of my friends or even family about problems I had- because I had made so many excuses that I didn't feel anything would warrant exceptions.

I never admitted having a disability, I probably STILL won't admit it in the actual sense- but would do so as necessary to get extra time on the GRE or what have you.

I went through 5 years of college without ever once asking for accommodations. I honestly didn't need them, but I should have taken them, I obviously didn't rise to the challenge of being in a University and having the expectations and regulated schedule that I was given.

Really, is it that I have trust issues, that I can't commit, or that people just don't want to put up with me? Or is it because I push them away, and honestly am not worthy of love, affection, or time and effort necessary to be considered a partner or worth while?

I'll be lucky if I can meet my own expectations, to find myself to be more disciplined, more in control of my stress...alone or not.

I have loved, and I have lost, and maybe perhaps that doesn't need to be a concern for me anymore.
I have much more on my plate than past mistakes.

Really, maybe I just need a steady breakfast of will.strengthening confidence.

Neo-Luddite, apparently I need a better self-label, or I could just write that blue grass song I sang on my way to write my paper on a computor.

I'm bout to jump into last-minute overdrive. I have 8 hours to complete, for Brown: 1. A Research Paper (I have 7 pages, but it is to be revised severely under American Antiquity standards and new arguement structures, while reviewing scantily cited sources that were read over in a hurry.)
2. My "minimum" 4 question 12 page essay exam on Southeaster Archaeology.
3. Complete 3 2 page reviews on sections/articles, that I haven't finished reading, in a book heavier than a full-sized fat ass American newborn.

I'll do a full update later, I'm going to opt out of a continued rant mode to do this.

I'll be in Ten Hoor by 11 out of there by noon for Hoole which I have to be out of by 2 to finish my exam and print everything out by 4(:30) to hand in somewhere in the same building as Hoole, but after I dash across the street to Gordon-Palmer with my fingers crossed for printer access.

Here's to Google, for ruining everything while saving our buts.

I prefer analog and digital archiving options, thank you very much.

Yes, I like my cake and eating it too. I don't just want to look up pictures of Angelfood on Google Images. I want recipes in my kitchen and a bun in the oven for my womenfolk...sort of. (seriously bake me a cake, I don't know how. Even though I don't like eating cake very much.)

Watch The End of Suburbia, and start saving up resources, I've got a mental list going of people to snatch up for a brain-trust and commune project...so when things go to shit, we can sit in one place (about a 500 mile radius, right?), grow horticulture produce and try not to die. I think I should recruit a sniper or two...just in case.